God is a Poet
I burn the midnight oil
To fuel these thoughts that are nocturnal
Pen and paper is my late night affair
Hours and owls that chime in like clockwork
This isn’t harry potter but I will send these secrets through thin air
The patterns we can manifest makes me think anything is possible
You’re blind and can’t see, but you still believe it
We’re only migrants and I’m hoping to still be living when we reach the zenith
We’re not even camping but this is intense
You’re not being serious but I’m taking offense,
Taking so many shots at me I think you gave me lockjaw
You’re like these walls that surround us,
you won’t even tell me what you saw
I’m not good with “no’s”
So why is it in your vocabulary?
I know you’re not a psychic so why do you refuse to get to know me?
Oh I forgot, you’re a connoisseur of what’s good for you
You just know everything about what’s good for you
And since you do, teach me all your self fulfilling prophecies
And you love to tell me to wear my heart on my sleeve a little quieter
Is it that I don’t have the guts, or I have too much sympathy to wrong her?
Suffer is a strong word, but from what I’ve seen, I don’t think you’re stronger
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